Sticks & Stones
by Pied Piper
Summary: Afters months of wishful fantasy, Mimi plucks up the courage to ask her boss out on a date, throwing her life into an inevitable and wonderful chaos. [AU]
1. Chapter 1

**Sticks & Stones**

* * *

**Summary**: Afters months of wishful fantasy, and in a brazen breach of workplace etiquette, Mimi plucks up the courage to ask her boss out on a date, throwing her life into an inevitable and wonderful chaos. [AU]

**Author's Note**: As opposed to my other recent attempts, whose disorganization sadly meant I had to take them down, I've got this story actually outlined, written, and scheduled out. I hope you'll enjoy and stick with it. For those wondering, I plan on posting the next chapter of The Second Hand by the weekend.

* * *

_We've got no lines on our faces,_

_With eyes so wide to new places._

"Sticks & Stones," by Cast of Lions

* * *

On her fourth glance at the closed office door all the way the far end of the long corridor, Tachikawa Mimi heard a long, exasperated sigh sound from behind. She turned in her rolling office chair to narrow her round hazel eyes at the occupant of the cubicle next to hers. The young man, his maroon hair teased into thick, gravity-defying curls about his head, leaned back in his own chair and smirked at her over the top of their dividing wall. His large mahogany eyes mirrored her narrowed gaze, though he appeared far more relaxed and comfortable than she did in her own nervous posture. She really hated that knowing look of his; it made keeping secrets nearly impossible.

Mimi pursed her pink lips and raised her chin, defiant. "I'm going to do it."

Motomiya Daisuke, chuckling to himself, twirled a pencil in his hand and nodded. "Of course, you are."

"I am," insisted Mimi. She turned her back to him again, returning her concentrated gaze to the closed door ahead of them.

"You've been saying this for weeks. No, actually, months now. Ever since you first started-which, by the way, you have yet to thank me for."

"I got this job on my own merit, Dai."

"I'm not arguing that," he protested. "But I mean, I was the one who told you we were even hiring. If you're going to ask anyone out, it should be me."

"You're next on my list," Mimi promised in distraction.

Daisuke sighed exaggeratedly again. "So they all say."

She leaned forward, chin resting on her elbow on the tabletop. Her left right hand drummed over the mouse of her work computer. She knew if she concentrated hard enough on the door at the end of the hallway, it would open, welcomingly, and there would be some sign from the universe that today was in fact the day, that this was the moment that would confirm endless hours of dreaming for the perfect meeting.

When she started this job, nearly one year to day in just two weeks, she had been eager to advance her marketing career at the Ishida Foundation. The Foundation was a non-profit organization that worked to support arts programming in the city, and it was widely recognized as an exemplary and prestigious company with an influential board of trustees, experienced staff members, and a wide range of sponsored activities and networks throughout the region.

This was in no small part due to the progressive leadership of its influential director, whose private and public life was often the subject of certain circles in the city's demographic. People had grown to admire the man for his creative approach to business and charity, and Mimi, whose parents were long-time donors to the Foundation, had been thrilled at the chance to work with him at such a forward-thinking institution.

Of course, every time she came near him, she would get inexplicably tongue-tied, losing her ability to think straight or even behave half as calm as she liked to think she usually appeared. Over the past few months, however, Mimi's childish crush had developed exponentially, fueled by working so close alongside a man whose principles and policies she so admired. Now, her long-time infatuation was nearly impossible to ignore. It made it more difficult than ever to work near him, but it was so much worse when she could barely look him in the eye.

At the same time, she was only ten percent convinced he even knew who she was. She was still new to the Foundation, relatively speaking, and he rarely had time to meet with his staff if not at appointments or meetings. With her minor position within the marketing department, it was only in the monthly all-staff meeting would she ever have a chance to be in the same room. Even those meetings were often spent with him making a few short remarks while the Foundation's vice president ran the agenda. Mimi usually spent the meetings staring at him instead of paying attention to the discussion, doing so in a fashion that was not at all discreet at the beginning. She since wised up to cover her tracks more after Daisuke, the other minor member of the marketing department and her closest colleague, began hysterically teasing her about her schoolgirl lust.

Recently, Mimi had begun thinking to put her thoughts to action. Her friends outside of work, who she had long confided her woes to, had been encouraging her to seek out ways to get closer to her boss, or at least pluck up the nerve to speak to him. Mimi had set a goal for herself to greet him in an even voice in the mornings when he passed by her cubicle, rather than squeak out a greeting in an unnaturally high and terribly embarrassing tone. She'd so far managed a "Hello", a "Good morning, sir", and, once, even a "Lovely weather we're having today, don't you think?" to which he'd actually paused to smile back at her. The memory of that particular smile made her knees weak still and largely fueled her determination to make their brief morning conversations much more substantial.

The biggest motivator, however, had been the office holiday party just before the New Year a few weeks ago. The director very rarely attended these staff functions, so both she and Daisuke, as well as others, were pleasantly (and in her case, startlingly) surprised to see him arrive a few hours into the festivities. Mimi, who'd by then downed two glasses of an alcoholic holiday punch, her face a permanent pink from the drink, felt not the normal flickering of fear in her stomach at the sight of him but actual boldness. Before Daisuke could stop her, she'd finished the last of her third cup of punch and walked straight up to the director to wish him a happy holiday season. Even as tipsy as she was, she remembered marveling at how much more perfect he looked up close, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne like a tonic to her nerves.

Unfortunately, Mimi didn't remember much of their conversation, but the snippets she did recall in a hungover stupor the next morning probably meant she had accosted him just to talk about how much she admired his work and how grateful she had been to be hired, repeatedly swearing she would never let him down. She remembered, in horror, the bewildered but bemused look on his face, and the kind way he'd spoken to her. Daisuke soon came to whisk her away before she could babble her way deeper into that pit of public humiliation had stayed with her ever since, the once grace of the disastrous evening. That exchange, what she remembered of it anyway, could have gone horribly, but he hadn't been annoyed with her or ignored her. He'd listened and spoken to her when he could have easily brushed her aside. She couldn't help but let that moment cement her belief that there was something between them, or at least a possibility of something.

With the New Year came the new resolution that Mimi would make more of an effort to make up for any slight on his perception of her after that drunken encounter, and the determination that if she was serious about how much she loved him, she would make actual strides to do something about it. She was no longer going to be that embarrassing, pesky girl at work with her distracting daydreams of an unattainable life. She was going to declare her feelings for him one day soon, and it was either going to be a wonderful victory or a terrible fall. Either way, Mimi had resolved that revealing herself was the only way to see if there was any possibility of finding something more with him. She was going to do it. She had made her decision.

"Today is the day," she said again, murmuring aloud to herself to give her some encouragement.

"You've been saying that every day for weeks now."

"As soon as he opens that door, I'll speak to him," she went on, ignoring Daisuke's commentary.

"I'm sure you will."

"It's now or never."

"Of course."

"I can do this."

"Mmph," he said. When she didn't continue, he craned his neck over the partition again and saw her staring with a very determined look on her pretty, oval face, chestnut hair pulled up in a bun at the back of her head. "We're all rooting for you."

"What are we rooting for?" asked a new voice.

The pair looked up at once to see a tall young man with untidy brown hair, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy suit, peering over at them from the hallway beside their desks. He was holding a stack of files in his hands, having emerged from a private office room off the side of their corridor, on his way to see the director himself.

Daisuke grinned, nodding at Mimi, who turned her attention back to her computer with a red face.

"Today is the day," said Daisuke.

Yagami Taichi raised a thick eyebrow, "Is it?"

"Now or never, she says."

"Have you got it all sorted out then, Tachikawa?"

"I think she's going to use the walk-and-talk approach this time," Daisuke answered for her as Mimi continued to make no acknowledgement of their conversation, annoyed.

Taichi's eyes widened in feigned shock. "The old walk-and-talk! I thought we agreed that wasn't the strongest method. You remember what happened at the New Year's party."

"I tried to warn her, but she's insisting."

"Have you thought about writing it down, Tachikawa? Here, you write out your love declaration on this paper, and I'll slip it in during our meeting."

Daisuke laughed and Mimi glared at the chuckling pair. "I'm not humoring you."

"Oh, no, you're wrong about that. You're very humorous," said Taichi. Mimi pursed her lips again and glowered at her computer screen. "You let us know how things go," he continued, walking towards the director's office now. "I can't actually root for you in my official professional capacity, you know, workplace etiquette and all that HR nonsense Kido is always barking at us. But I promise," he paused to wink at them, thumping his chest with a fist of solidarity, "my schoolgirl heart is cheering you on, on the inside."

Daisuke waved a hand at him over the top of the cubicle walls. "And that level of support is exactly why you're the best vice president, ever, sir!"

The door opened before Taichi could chuckle back a response, and Daisuke immediately pretended to be hard at work. Mimi, on the other hand, quickly stood up, rehearsing her casual points of conversation, but to her disappointment, she saw Taichi slip inside the office for a meeting as the director stood at the door, greeting the other man enthusiastically. Mimi saw that he was in a good mood, though the dark circles under his eyes told her he was more exhausted than usual.

But then he glanced back into the hallway, and his eyes met hers.

He smiled widely at her, cheerful. "Good morning. How are you today?"

"I'm well, sir, thank you," she stammered back, blushing furiously and hating herself for it.

"Glad to hear it," he said. "Listen, my secretary's running a little late today. Do you think you could call my older son, Yamato, and confirm when his flight gets in tonight? I just need to be sure I'm sending the car to the airport at the right time."

"Absolutely!" Mimi half-cried out, too enthusiastic. "Of course, anything!"

Ishida Hiroaki beamed at her, warmly. "Thanks, Mimi. I appreciate it."

He shut the door behind him, but Mimi remained standing, in shock, her feet glued to the floor. Daisuke, now free from the pressure to look productive, glanced up at her curiously. "You all right?"

But she was barely listening to him, her spirits lifting her heart like balloons of hope. "Did you hear that? He called me 'Mimi'."

Daisuke shook his head, amused. "I'll add it to my journal tonight. 'Dear Diary, my boss knows I work for him, at long last...'"

But Mimi was so happy she didn't even kick his chair on her way past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sticks & Stones**

* * *

**Summary: **After months of wishful fantasy, Mimi plucks up the courage to ask her boss out on a date, throwing her life into an inevitable and wonderful chaos. [AU]

**Author's Note:** Feeling a kick of inspiration with my two currently ongoing stories. I hope you enjoy both.

* * *

_We've got no lines on our faces,_

_With eyes so wide to new places._

"Sticks & Stones," by Cast of Lions

* * *

When Ishida Yamato stepped into the lobby of his hotel, he was not at all surprised to see the young blond man slouched in one of the leather armchairs in front of the reception desk. The man was engrossed in a magazine, face buried in its pages, leaning back comfortably in his chair. His closely cut blond curls were brushed back in an attempt to look presentable, and the gray pinstriped suit he wore was wrinkled at the cuffs and hems. He wore a rusty old gold watch on his left hand. It had been their grandfather's watch, a gift from the will that had generously favored both grandsons from the deeds of the wealthy old man's estate.

Yamato dragged his suitcase behind him, a small rolling hard-case that the bellhop was frantically trying to take and carry for him until Yamato had to pause to politely shake the pink-faced boy off. He hated this kind of entitled flattery and attention. It was one of the primary reasons he actively avoided staying in such hotels, though he hadn't had much choice or forewarning this time.

"Sorry I'm late," he said gruffly to his younger brother.

Takaishi Takeru gave a start, jumping up from his chair when he saw who was speaking to him. His blue eyes widened with pleasure and before Yamato could stop him, the young man had tossed the magazine aside and grabbed his older sibling in a big bear hug.

"You're here!" He squeezed tightly.

"Get off!" Yamato squirmed and pried Takeru's arms from him, letting go of his suitcase.

The bellhop immediately dived for it, grasping the luggage with triumph and running off to the reception desk.

"Dad said you'd be coming in late. I've been waiting for ages, I'm starving!"

Yamato had managed to yank himself free by this point, uncomfortable by such displays of affection. Takeru had always been the exception to the way the family behaved themselves. He was bubbly and charming where Yamato and their parents were reserved and politely withdrawn, warm and inquisitive where they were aloof and observant.

When they were in grade school, Yamato filled his brother's head with stories that he had been adopted, pointing out all the ways the child was different from his family. The innocent young boy had fallen for the false news with such tortured despair that Yamato had been grounded for a full three weeks, right in the middle of summer, the prime season for playing outdoors. With nothing else to occupy his time, Yamato had picked up his father's old guitar and taught himself to play, and ever since then, music had defined the man's life.

"It's good to see you, too," offered Yamato rather lamely, still feeling awkward by the bright way Takeru was grinning at him.

"How's New York?"

"Fine," said Yamato, unsure of how to elaborate. He had never been good at conversation. "How is…" he paused, then added randomly, "Catherine?" He hoped he guessed the right name.

"We broke up," said Takeru cheerfully.

"Sorry."

Takeru shrugged, "It happens. What can you do?"

Yamato said nothing. He was not an authority on that subject. He had never been very good at relationships, either.

The receptionist approached them at that point, inquiring about Yamato's room. Takeru had obviously explained to the man that his brother was soon arriving, or else their father had arranged a smooth check-in process. The bellhop waited patiently as the arrangements were confirmed, and soon Yamato was holding the card key to his suite, Takeru was steering him to the hotel doors, and the bellhop was on his way to the elevator to drop off the luggage in their pre-paid hotel rooms.

They were to meet their father for a late dinner at one of the city's elite restaurants. The Foundation had arranged a private car to escort the brothers, in which Takeru helped himself to a glass of scotch but Yamato refrained from accepting when the younger man offered him a double.

"More for me," said Takeru, gulping the alcohol down like a tonic.

Yamato raised an eyebrow, "Maybe you should hold off on that. The night's still young."

Takeru just laughed, but this time Yamato thought it sounded hollow and empty. Before he could try to figure out a way to ask what was wrong, the car had come to a stop in the curved driveway of a large apartment complex. Both siblings looked at each other, confused, and Yamato rolled down the window on his side of the car to peer outside.

The doors to the high-rise building opened and out stepped the vice president of their family's Foundation. He was talking on his cell phone with a rather serious look on his handsome face, and Yamato ducked his head back inside the limousine and grimaced at his younger brother.

"It's him."

Takeru shrugged and filled his glass again. "It's a family dinner."

"And we can't have one of those without the son Dad always wanted, can we?"

"Don't say that," said Takeru in a low voice.

Yamato forced a smile as the chauffeur opened the door and Taichi climbed into the backseat. He took his place opposite the brothers, flashing a warm smile with an outstretched hand to Takeru, who accepted the handshake. "Nice to see you both. How was the travel?"

"No problems here," said Takeru and Yamato grunted.

Taichi sat back, turning his cell phone over in his hands. "Good."

The three men sat in silence as the car drove on towards the restaurant. Yamato stared at his hands and Takeru swirled his drink slowly, while Taichi struggled to come up with something to kill the awkwardness. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted when his cell phone rang again. He answered just as the car finally pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, and both siblings exited the car as though they couldn't wait to get out.

Inside the dimly lit restaurant, at the rear table by a window overlooking a silent creek, sat their father, who was also on his phone. Yamato wanted to lean into his brother and bet that Taichi was on the other end of the line, but that was when Hiroaki spotted his sons and hastily ended his call. He stood and waved them over proudly, motioning the waiter to attend to their drink orders. Taichi lingered back, still talking on the phone, which gave Hiroaki time to greet his sons properly.

He looked between the pair of them. "You know, no matter how old you both get, I still look at you and see you when you were still young enough for me to pick up."

Yamato wanted to point out that his father had never done anything like that with them, having always been away on business or late at the office for as long as Yamato could remember about his childhood, but he bit back the reply for the sake of entering another argument.

Hiroaki smiled at him. "Was your flight all right? I had one of the girls at the office make sure the car picked you up on time."

"It was fine," said Yamato. He tried to force himself to be friendly to his father, as difficult as it was to pretend they got along. "Thanks for having her call. She was helpful. Mimi, right?"

"Yes, she's in our marketing division. You might meet her later this week. Wonderful woman, very bright, helpful."

"Right," nodded Yamato, uncomfortable by the way his father spoke of women in his office. He knew too much about Hiroaki's history to trust compliments he made about pretty and accommodating employees. He was suddenly irritated, frustrated by the reminders of his childhood, watching his parents' marriage fall apart.

Takeru seemed to sense this discomfort and immediately changed the conversation. "I heard that the Foundation is getting a large donation tomorrow. I read the announcement in the society magazine today. It sounds like a great program, sponsoring music lessons for public school students. Congratulations," he smiled with sincerity this time, and in spite of himself, Yamato did find the news of that success a good distraction.

"Thank you, Takeru. Taichi has been working on that contract. His sister is a schoolteacher, if you remember."

Again, Takeru cut his brother off. "Is there going to be a press conference then tomorrow?"

"Yes, the marketing staff's arranged a few meetings with the press in the morning," Hiroaki nodded.

"You both should come." Taichi had rejoined them, taking his seat next to Takeru.

"Yes, you should," their father was pleased about the idea. "I would love for you to be there."

"It would make for some good press photos, the family business and all," agreed Yamato.

Taichi fell silent and Hiroaki glanced at his eldest son. His dark eyes appraised him quietly, but Yamato refused to look away, glaring back. His father sighed. "Well, I suppose that ends the preliminaries of the conversation."

At that, Takeru shut down. He stared at his plate with his mouth in a thin line, eyes unmoving, and Taichi looked uncomfortable, glancing at his cell phone as though wishing it to ring and give him an excuse to leave the table. Both of their reactions only fueled Yamato's frustration at the whole sham of their fake relationships. This was why he hated coming home, and he was angry that he'd let his brother talk him into this visit, however overdue it was. Every time he gave in, something always came up to remind him exactly what role he played in his father's world.

"If that is what you wanted us here for, you should know the false pretenses aren't necessary," snapped Yamato, taking the bait.

"That's enough," said Hiroaki calmly, picking up his water glass and taking a long sip.

But Yamato went on, "What else have we ever been besides props to make you look good for an adoring public?"

"_Enough_!" His father slammed the glass down on the table with such force that the contents spilled, his silverware clattering against the plate. Taichi winced, and Takeru seemed to sink even deeper in his chair, his head bowed so low it looked like his chest could swallow his chin.

After a short hesitance, Hiroaki said in a low voice, "Whatever you think of me, Yamato, everything I've done for this Foundation has been with you both in mind. I mean you as people, as my sons, the future of this organization. If that is only in name, if you do not want to take over its administration after my retirement, that is fine, I'm not asking you to do that. But I have never treated you as tools to better some intangible image. I will never do that."

Takeru spoke up kindly, "We know that, Dad."

"Don't start," snapped Yamato at him.

"Do not speak to your brother like that," warned Hiroaki.

"Then don't patronize him with your bullshit—,"

"Yamato, I am warning you."

He grew sarcastic, "Sorry, Dad, you can't choose your kids, and if you could—,"

"If I could, they'd be a damn more respectful than you."

Takeru shut his eyes and Taichi looked like he wanted to melt into his chair.

After a long moment, Yamato stood up. "I'd say sorry for disappointing you," he said lowly, "but then again, why stop now?" And he left, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of painful emotions, throwing the glass door of the restaurant open and storming out into the street without looking back.

* * *

"It was awful," said Taichi the next afternoon, tossing his plastic-wrapped sandwich onto the human resource manager's desk and sliding into the chair across from him. He rubbed his face tiredly, pulling his tie loose. "I don't think we sat down longer than a few seconds before the shit hit the fan. It must have been a record. I should time it next time."

"If there is a next time," said Kido Jyou through a mouthful of salad. "I heard Hiroaki in the elevator this morning, leaving a message on Yamato's cell phone. Sounds like he already took off back for New York."

"I don't blame him." Taichi shrugged and reached over the desk for one of the water bottles his friend always had lined up in a small row by the window his desk faced. He kicked back in his chair, taking a long gulp. "I have never seen a more dysfunctional family."

"I think they could get along. The younger one always seemed all right to me. It's the older one who's got that temper."

"His dad's temper," muttered Taichi. "I don't think they've ever gotten along."

"Well, at least he has you."

Taichi smiled wryly.

Jyou speared a tomato with his fork and smiled slyly at the man. "You know," he said, changing the subject from the horrendous dinner last night, "This wouldn't have happened if you had taken up my offer to set you up on that blind date."

His friend wrinkled his nose and shook his head, reaching for his sandwich and unwrapping the plastic covering. "I don't do blind dates, Jyou. Not since the last time you tried, and even all the standard Ishida drama from last night doesn't compare with the disaster of that date."

"I already apologized to you about that."

"Not enough."

"I'm just saying that if you didn't have such an empty personal calendar, then you wouldn't have to be witness to family reunions as charming as the Ishida's."

Taichi smirked, chewing thoughtfully. "I think I'd rather go through that again than one of your matches."

"I've got the perfect one this time."

"Oh?"

"The salad shop next door just hired this new cashier. She's really pretty, great smile, nice skin."

Taichi glanced knowingly at the choice of the bespectacled man's lunch, and his friend wrinkled his nose, holding up his left hand and shaking his wedding ring. Taichi just laughed. "No salad girls. I hate salads. We'd have nothing to talk about."

"How about my cousin, Naomi?"

"You set me up with her before."

"No, that was my cousin Naoko."

"You set me up with her, too."

"Damn." Jyou frowned, thinking hard. He picked up his coffee cup, blowing on it to cool it down. "You know, maybe we need a female perspective to figure out what's wrong with you."

Taichi rolled his eyes. "Well, that's flattering."

"I just think you need to relax more, Taichi. You work too hard. You have to tell Hiroaki 'no' sometimes, okay?"

"He wants to retire soon, and he needs the help."

"You already basically run this place anyway. What else can you do?"

Taichi shrugged. "I owe him my career, Jyou. He got me where I am."

"No," said Jyou, shaking his head. "You got yourself here."

Taichi smiled, hoping that would be the end of the subject, but Jyou took another gulp of his coffee and went on as though they'd never missed a beat. "You know who you should talk to? That new marketing assistant, Mimi."

Taichi paused, eyebrow raised. "Do my ears deceive me, or is the HR manager actually condoning an office romance?"

Jyou rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I meant she probably has some friends who'd be interested in getting to know a dashing entrepreneur like yourself."

"You're making me blush," said Taichi. "It's too bad you're already taken."

Jyou ignored the sarcasm. "We should organize some kind of work outing, bring our friends and see what happens."

"Yes, that's just what every bachelor needs, a desperation party."

He might as well have been talking to himself as Jyou went on without skipping a beat, "I'll tell Daisuke to bring the idea up with Mimi. He's always hanging out with her, isn't he? They've really hit it off."

"They're just friends," corrected Taichi a little too quickly, and he immediately regretted it.

Jyou paused for an almost imperceptible second while his friend returned his gaze to his sandwich. "Yes, well," continued Jyou with a quiet cough, "hopefully she has some more friends."

Luckily for Taichi, Jyou was a tactful friend and he left that interruption alone. He went on to rattle off a few more ideas about the party, naming a few single and female acquaintances that he promised to try to invite, while Taichi waved or nodded at each one, being careful not to let on too much interest.

The fact was he had no interest. For months now, he'd only really been interested in one girl, and she barely registered his existence apart from the dreaded "friend zone". He winced internally at the thought, and the completely unfair term. But the fact remained that he was just her friend, if even that, and he wasn't going to be anything more. In fact, he _couldn't_ be anything more, so really, he had no business being wistful about a situation beyond control.

Despite all his jokes to the contrary, Taichi really did care about workplace management. He had long since believed in the office rules Jyou touted during their regular meetings and memos, though he did not dare to let Jyou know this or he'd never hear the end of it. But Taichi had standards he believed in, standards that meant that a company was best run without personal investments. He at least had tried his best to keep work and play as separate as possible, being chummy with his colleagues but maintaining a professional distance from anything that could stray the lines.

That is, he'd _tried _to live that way, until the recent holiday party, when, after promising Daisuke he'd take care of her while the other man slipped away with his own date for the evening, Taichi had found himself standing outside the restaurant where the festivities had taken place, at nearly half past two in the morning, his head spinning from too much alcoholic punch, and his mouth pressed firmly on Mimi's soft and enticing lips, her arms around his neck, her fingers wrapped in the thick curls of his untidy brown hair.

Taichi did not make a habit of sleeping around while inebriated, knowing that the lines were difficult to draw when basic coordination skills were otherwise inhibited, not to mention the small fact that it was usually pretty difficult to stay focused on (or even really have) good sex when one was really drunk. But the major reason for this was that such nights were really never remembered properly, and he hated that feeling of confusion and dread in the mornings, trying to sort out the sequence of events from a foggy memory, coupled with what was usually a terrible hangover.

So Taichi was particularly proud of himself for pulling away from Mimi's kiss that night, no matter how incredible it had been. He commended himself for insisting she go home, hailing a cab for her. He was pleased he'd been able to refuse when she'd drunkenly tried to pull him inside the taxi with her. He'd been proud of all his responses to the unexpected turn of events that night, and that he hadn't given in to temptation.

But he hadn't expected what came next...which was nothing.

_Actually_, nothing.

In fact, Mimi didn't seem to even remember kissing him that night, nor did she ever bring what happened between them up again. She gave no indication in their next meeting that their relationship could have changed. Taichi had waited for her to say something, look at him with that knowing glint in her pretty hazel eyes, or give some hint about wanting to talk to him at all about the party.

But she never did.

Taichi had to face the truth that what he'd always hated about drunken hook-ups had happened with that kiss, and that Mimi's hazy memory had impaired her from remembering anything at all about him.

In a way, he should have been grateful for this, as it saved him from the kind of humiliation he'd so long associated with workplace dalliances.

On the other hand, knowing that he had been that forgettable really did take it out of him for a while.

But he'd moved on, had insisted to himself that he had to move on and let it go, so he did.

At least _he _knew about the kiss still, and at least, to him, it had been something to remember.


End file.
